Page 97 of Broken Daddy

Looking away from her pleading eyes, I turn my attention back to the sink. Shoving my hands into the water, I quickly yank them back out. A knife—it caught the pad of my thumb and now blood trickles out in a steady stream.

For just a moment, Gen sways forward, as if she’s going to reach out and take my hand. Then she catches herself.

“That’s what you want?” Her voice is stiff, unnatural.

I can’t look at her.

So I just nod.

Because it’s not what I want.

But it might be what I need.

Chapter41

Genevieve

Crying and cooking.

Who knew the two could go together so well? Not me.

I’ve never criedandcooked at the same time in my life. No, cooking was always a way to avoid crying. To throw myself into something.

So that’s what I’m doing now, but it doesn’t work.

The house is completely empty. Nathan’s threat wasn’t a threat at all, even if I took it that way. He’s back at work in the city and Eva is with Chris for the day. He’s so adamant I don’t hurt her that he’s sent her away, at least until…

Until I’m gone.

A hole opens up inside of me. A bottomless pit I can’t stop filling with self-pity.

Why? What are you sad about? You got what you wanted—the job in Germany. Erik, that maniac, is going to court and probably being locked up, according to Chris. You have more than enough money for the trip, your lease is up in three weeks, and yes, the baby is the only thing—

The baby. Is that why I feel so terrible?

This whole time I’ve been ignoring how much Nate wants to be involved. How he fishes for any information, any details about my OB-GYN visits or how I’m feeling. I even saw him eyeing a display of cribs in the city.

“New York isn’t home anymore,” I mutter firmly to myself, portioning out fettuccine Bolognese into the stack of glass dishes I bought.

There are thirty of them—enough to get them through until Nate finds someone to replace me, maybe. Or maybe not. Eva’s going back to school soon, anyway. She won’t be waking up late to eat waffles with messy hair, or making faces at shrimp dishes, or asking me a million questions about why mushrooms are shaped the way they are.

Maybe she’ll forget me.

That doesn’t seem to be what Nate’s worried about, though. Can I blame him? Already, I’m so attached to this baby growing inside me, and I kind of get it. I’d do anything to defend him or her. I’d even tell someone to leave, even if—

My heart stutters to a stop. A whole body hesitation before I think the words, but they whisper through my mind anyway.

Even if it was someone I loved.

A laugh bubbles out of me, but it’s a broken sound. I clap the top down on the last fettuccine serving and turn my attention to a pile of breaded chicken breast and roasted veggies.

Love.

“I thought I was in love once and look where it got me.” Am I talking to myself or the baby? Doesn’t matter, I guess. I’m alone, anyway.

But there was Will. So focused, so supportive—I thought. Until he tried to take the restaurant from me, then wrecked it when he couldn’t handle running it on his own. I’ve been piecing my life back together, climbing an impossible cliff all for my career, and I almost made it at The Black Fig. Until Erik.

“Men,” I mutter. They’re the problem.

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